


it's not what you think it is (it is so much worse)

by hiroshimalovers



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Destructive Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, mentions of courferre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2492840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiroshimalovers/pseuds/hiroshimalovers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know screaming (or arguing as everyone else sees it) won’t make him notice you any more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's not what you think it is (it is so much worse)

**Author's Note:**

> See tags for warnings.
> 
> Crossposted to tumblr.

You know screaming (or arguing as everyone else sees it) won’t make him notice you any more.

It won’t make him want to touch your skin and rebut harsh words with soft ones and open mouthed kisses. You know this and more, but you do it anyway because it is an honor to touch a god, to have their words entwined with your own. Maybe at night you drink to your livers’ limits and maybe two hours in a bed is enough to live on if you love desperately enough.

You remember the beginnings of your time with these people, how it was an accident, but he shone brighter than the sun, and even his biting words couldn’t make you look away. For a while, everyone was sharp in the wrong ways and you don’t know why you stayed (yes, you do, it was always him). You don’t know when they stopped and just gazed with curled in sadness they couldn’t admit to. You don’t want to.

One day, Courfeyrac comes to you with whispers and a far of look in his eyes and you promise to help him, of course you do. Through the haze, you do care but they can’t know that. A week later, Combeferre looks surprised with an armful of Courfeyrac and you wonder if you could be cured that quickly.

(No, because you go deeper, back to childhood kicks and middle school slips. It goes back to lies in the operating room and dismantled razorblades and gnawing hunger. He is only the tip of the iceberg. He is also the painkiller and for a minute you almost feel it recede but it’s so minuscule and you have a refill of anguish and half empty whispers behind your back.)

Just because you’re drunk doesn’t mean you don’t remember. It just means you don’t want to.

His hair glints in the sunlight and your breath catches, Your eyes burn as he flows with passion and you wonder if he knows how to feel empty, or in pain like a wounded animal. You hope not, even with every insult and snappy comeback laced with cruelty.

"We just take it," whispers Eponine and you say you know because Marius is wrapped around Cosette and at least she’s friends with him though that can’t be any easier. She’s closer. You almost envy her but she has three times as many tracklines and stringy hair. You’re just greasy and may always smell like smoke and wine but you’re not. You wouldn’t, you swear.

(They don’t know why you don’t wear short sleeves, they don’t know of the six vertical lines and the hastily done stitches and the empty bottle of antidepressants you took for the first time)

He tells you you’re worthless and you eat that shit up.

Cripplingly low self esteem and words from a god - you think you’d hate him if you didn’t watch him from afar so damn much. Eponine tells you at least she can recognize it for what it is. You don’t remember what you say but her hurt eyes stay in your memory. You don’t know why it’s next to your teachers. It’s not like disappointment can hurt you anymore than it already has.

You know that your life is self destructive. You know you will never go anywhere, and you think it’s okay as far as everything goes. You got a year of love for a god, He didn’t even punch you (but he did so much worse).

For someone so useless, you think you did okay.

You did, after all, prove you were capable of something resembling normal love because you’re still alive.

You even remembered to eat yesterday. Maybe you’ll pull yourself out.

(You don’t.)


End file.
